Fairy Tales
by LiesRungTrue
Summary: Whoever said it was only the kind, gentle and beautiful pricesses that got their princes? A tale of the girl in the background.


Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me; it's all the wonderful J. K. Rowling's. I'm only borrowing it for a while.

'Once upon a time there lived a girl, beautiful and wise, admired by all who knew her. She lived in a great castle in the north of the kingdom along with many princes and princesses...'

Damn, buggery and blast. Who am I kidding? I've already tried the escaping thing once and that didn't work, why should I get another chance after messing this one up so badly.

I hear them, I hear what they say and I hate them. Do they not think I can't hear them? 'Poor Eloise, too stupid to know not to try cursing your spots off.' Excuse me for being Muggle-born; it's rather hard to know these things when you're never told about them. People don't seem to look further than my 'stupidity'; they never see the reasons behind it. Years of being taunted and teased because of my acne, when I came to Hogwarts I thought it would change. It did, now they didn't just taunt, now they took delight in sending me bubotuber pus in the mail and laughing as it sprayed me, claiming not 'to see a difference'. I was desperate, and at least it gave them pause for thought when they learned of my being in the hospital wing because of it.

Of course, now all I hear is 'Spiteful, bitter Midgen, serves her right.' Why is that exactly? I've never fully understood why it was my fault that people drove me to do that.

Why am I here exactly? Why did I even bother staying over Christmas, even dare hope I'd be invited by someone to this stupid Ball? 'Go on Eloise, ' my mother told me, 'It'll do you some good to get out and meet some people. You'll have fun.' Right...

This dress is awful, if my mother insisted on making me go to this damned ball, why couldn't she have at least gotten me something more comfortable and less bright? Ah well, it's not like I'll be noticed in it anyway. And despite what the Gryffindors have been saying, my nose **is** straight, honestly, who even started that rumour. It's not like you couldn't just look to dispel it. Ah, and there we have reached the crux of the problem, the nub if you will. Who'd actually be bothered long enough to look? Bah.

'...the girl had hundreds of wonderful dresses, each more beautiful than the last. Every day she wore a new one, to a dance or a ball or a feast, and each time she sat with the most handsome price there...'

On the plus side my aim has improved lately, I can throw a scrap of parchment into a bin from quite far away with no trouble at all. Perhaps I should try out for Chaser next year and have the chance to be ridiculed even more. Or not.

Look at them, all happy dancing away. Pretentious Potter, I heard what he said about me, and he's right, who'd ever want to go to the ball with ugly, old Eloise Midgen? After all, I'm sat here all alone, no friends, no partner and frankly? I'm quite happy like this, no backstabbing, no disappointments, no cheating, no heartbreak.

"Anyone sitting here?"

What? "No." Who's this then? Ah yes, I recognise him, one of that boy Malfoy's cronies. Rather in the same boat as myself I suspect, there are a fair few of us pariahs, too disgusting to the human eye to be bothered about.

"Seen you before, Louise, you're a Hufflepuff ain't you?"

And then there's me, lowest of the low, not even the other outcasts know who I am.

"Eloise, and yes I'm a Hufflepuff. Crabbe is it?"

"Goyle." I know, but petty revenges are the best.

"Sorry." Not really, but we must be polite else I lose who few defenders I have, 'oh she may not be pretty but at least she's nice,' yes... I suppose I have that at least.

"Nice dress," really? It's as itchy as hell and I keep tripping over the hem. I suspect I'll accidentally-on-purpose spill ink on it later this week so I'll never have to wear it again.

"Thanks."

I wonder if anybody out there could point me out in a crowd? Even my classmates have trouble remembering who I am sometimes after all, six years I've spent with them and still they forget who I am. It's just not fair. Oh I know people like Potter and Krum say they'd give anything to live anonymously but I'd like to see them try. Let them watch as people look past and through them, continuously forget their name, don't even realise that they've left until they return.

"Pardon?" Really must start paying attention to things save I have 'insane' added to my rather long list of nicknames. Would make a change really, perhaps they'd start paying attention to me like they do to that Lovegood girl.

"Wanna dance?" What? Do my ears deceive me? Was I really asked or is this just another cruel trick of my imagination. Somehow I doubt it, my imagination and myself came to a truce long before now, why play cruel tricks on yourself when there are so many other people you can get to do it for you?

"Sure."

Okay, so he's clumsy and I'm taller than him. So I'm just as left-footed and he hums along badly to the music. So what? I don't want the best; I have no delusions. This is nice... I like being noticed for once. It... it makes a change. Oddly enough, I think he feels the same.

'... and she lived happily ever after, to the end of her days. Her prince ever present by her side.'


End file.
